


Rigor Mortis

by Just_Mad_Enough



Series: Negligible Senescence [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, episode rewrite, omg what did i do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 07:15:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13519194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Mad_Enough/pseuds/Just_Mad_Enough
Summary: Rigor mortis (Latin: rigor "stiffness", mortis "of death"), the third stage of death, is one of the recognizable signs of death, caused by chemical changes in the muscles post mortem, which cause the limbs of the corpse to stiffen. In humans, rigor mortis can occur as soon as 4 hours post mortem.





	Rigor Mortis

**Author's Note:**

> Well. *waves*. This may not be my first fanfiction, but it IS my first story in this fandom. Which also means I don't have a betareader for this story, so it's entirely possible that there's a few mistakes in there. I'm not a native speaker, so go ahead and point them out, if you feel like it. Other than that... well. Have a good read? On with the show!

When he gasps awake, the electricity is still making his limbs twitch in little, uncontrolled movements. It makes his usually neat cursive spiky and uneven when he writes the formula on a scrap of paper. He sends Maze on her way with it, because she seems even _more_ twitchy and obviously needs something physical to do. He knows his demon – she’s been scared and worried, and she _hates_ being scared or worried, never mind a combination of the two. So he sends her on this errand, knowing she can and will make sure that the formula will reach the right hands.

The he lies back down. He’s tired – exhausted, really. In a moment he’ll get back up, make himself presentable, and visit Chloe. He’ll have some witticisms ready to go and he’ll look combed and perfect while doing so. In a moment though. He needs to close his eyes and rest, first.

*** *** ***

When Maze returns to the commandeered room, she finds Linda and the Bitch Goddess in silent conversation. They hush her when she starts to speak in a normal tone. Tell her to let Lucifer sleep for a while longer. She huffs but complies – he _had_ been pretty beat, earlier.

And hour later she gets a text from Amenadiel. Chloe shows signs of waking, though she’s not all the way there yet. So she goes to wake him up, because there’s _no_ way she will deal with his bitching if he doesn’t get to go home, shower, and dress in a new suit in time to catch her first, actual waking moment. He doesn’t react when she shakes his shoulder. At all. He doesn’t scrunch up his face, he doesn’t grumble at her to leave him be. When she shakes him harder, his head flops to the side, at which point she slaps his cheek and then just… stops. As she looks down at him, she notices that there’s no color to him except the slight, greyish-blue tinge to his lips. And he’s cold. Usually he’s running hot, celestial metabolism and hellfire keeping him warm and toasty. But there’s no warmth, no _life_ radiating from him now. She would go for the defibrillator again, but she knows death when she’s face to face with. And by the look of things, he’s been gone too long already. Likely before she even made it back to the room. She sits down by his feet and laughs and laughs and laughs. She’s aware of Linda panicking, of his mother asking useless questions. She can feel the bed jerking as Linda realizes what’s going on and starts to give him CPR. But she just sits there for a moment and pretends the tears streaming down her face are from the laughter. But then her friends start to fire up the machinery again and she needs to calm down, _now_.

*** *** ***

She’s been awake for hours now, and she’s disappointed. And yeah, pissed, too. She didn’t think much of it when he wasn’t there when she woke, thinking he was still dealing with the aftermath, or something. But people have been in and out of her room. Dan had come with her little Monkey, and Ella had been by to make sure she got the antidote right on the first try. Maze had been in a while ago, giving her an odd smile, patted her shoulder and left again. Even Amenadiel had been here. But, damn it to all hell, he’s her partner and she expected him to have at least called or even just texted by now. But no, nothing. Zilch.

And then he fails to pick up his phone and answer the texts _she_ sends _him_ , at which point she starts to worry. So she checks herself out against the doctors advice and calls an Uber.

When she enters the penthouse, she can hear Maze and Amenadiel yelling at each other. They’re out on the terrace but she doesn’t care. He’s lying on his bed, dressed to the nines as always. He’s even got his shoes on. And he’s not moving, and she doesn’t think she’s _ever_ seen him still. It’s as if he isn’t physically able to. He’s always adjusting his cufflinks, or pulling imagined lint off his suite or bouncing his foot or _something_. She stops beside the bed, and she knows what the problem is, she’s a homicide detective, she can’t _not_ know. She sits down beside him and takes his hand in hers. His fingers are stiff, but his wrist isn’t quite there yet so he can’t have been gone for more than seven, eight hours, tops. And that’s when her professional brain shuts off and the tears that have been leaking ever so slowly start to fall in earnest. By the time the other two notice her, she’s flat out sobbing, his hand still clutched between both of hers. Neither says a word to her – or maybe the blood and misery rushing through her brain are so loud she can’t hear them. Maze sits down beside her, but doesn’t touch, and she’s thankful for that. She would break. She _is_ breaking, bits and pieces already gone to shambles, and she can’t afford to fall apart entirely. She will need to go home to her daughter soon, she’ll need to… well, she doesn’t know. Plan a funeral, or hunt a killer or… or. She’ll find out soon enough anyway. Right now, she needs to cry and try to fit the pieces of herself back together – at least enough to make others believe.

So she clutches his hand, and she cries, and she can’t believe that he isn’t opening his eyes to leer at her, and tell her, _“Well,_ Darling _. If I only knew that_ this _was the way to finally get you into bed with me!”_. But he isn’t, and he won’t.

He’s gone.

*** END ***

**Author's Note:**

> Well... fuck. I don't really know why I just did that. I mean, seriously. But it happened, and I shared, and now I'm hiding behind my desk and hope you won't throw stones at my head. Even so, I hope you liked it!  
> Also, I think this might have the potential for a sequel, but I neither nor if YOU want one, nor if I want to write it. It's very open now, but that's not always bad. I've finished writing this just a few minutes ago, and I'll need to let it sit for a while before I decide if I want to keep going with this or not. As of right now, it's a oneshot, though. Anyway, thank you so much for reading!


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